Splintered Hearts: The Flurry of Dancing Flames
by Hellinbrand
Summary: Oneshot. The story of how Axel's Other lost his heart to darkness, and his Nobody came to be born. Written pre-BBS etc.


"Don't open that door!"

"But Eal…"

"Leave it, I say! Here, put some clothes in here…"

"But…"

"_Please_, don't argue!"

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Eal clasped the phone to his ear. He cursed under his breath: all he could hear was the dialling tone. Through the frosted window he could just make out the blurred shapes of people rushing past. Glancing round the living room, Eal seized an armchair and thrust it up against the front door.

"Like that's going to do anything," he muttered under his breath. The dialling tone droned on.

"Goddamn it, Reno, pick up!" he shouted, throwing the phone down.

"Honey…"

Lenna peered round the kitchen door. Rosa, their daughter, not yet five, was in her arms. Eal had often boasted that she had inherited the best features of both her parents. She had been spared her father's sharp face, and her mother's untidy brown hair. Instead, she was blessed with a combination of prettiness and flaming red hair that one day would make her a most striking woman.

"My two-bit cousin's not picking up," Eal said, crossing over to the coat stand by the front door, "We'll have to run for it."

"Have you tried his work number? Or the regular police?" Lenna asked.

"The police?!" Eal laughed bitterly, handing Lenna her coat, "You think they're still taking calls with Heartless at the city gates? Nah, they'll all be fighting, or already up in the castle."

"But… what about Rosa?" Lenna protested as Eal guided her to the front door, "Those… _things _are out there! It's dangerous!"

"Not half as dangerous as it's going to get if we stick around here," said Eal grimly, heaving the armchair aside. Wrapping Rosa in a tartan blanket, they stepped out into the street.

The blizzard hit them as soon as they crossed the threshold, buffeting and blinding them with one blow. Eal could barely make out the faces of the people streaming past them. He could just hear the crackle of gunfire over the wind. It seemed to be coming from some distance, but he knew it was just a trick of the storm: war had come to the Radiant Garden. War; which the people had not known for over ten years.

One arm firmly wrapped round Lenna's shoulders, Eal joined the panicking, jostling mass. They kept to the edge of the crowd, to avoid being caught in the current. They tried to walk faster but kept slipping on the slush underfoot.

The street turned left, sloping gradually upwards. Eal could just make out the vague form of Ansem's castle: a dark mass veiled by the snowstorm. There were cries of relief from the crowd; they were close. They were so relieved that many did not hear the lightning crackling overhead.

Eal and Lenna were lucky, being on the far side of the street when it struck. It came out of nowhere: long fingers of lightning darting from the clouds to smash into the houses. Great, choking, purple clouds arose from the ruins. Eal and Lenna fell back into a doorway, clutching Rosa tight between them. The winds were buffeting them from every direction. People were screaming, scattering in all directions. Eal could see bodies twisted and trampled underfoot. The ground gave a sudden heave and Eal was hurled from his feet. He struck his head on the road. For a moment everything was confused.

When he looked up, Eal could see the street was nearly deserted. Debris from the shattered houses lay strewn everywhere, not quite covering the bodies.

"Lenna! Lenna! Rosa!" Eal cried, staring wild-eyed in every direction. He heard a strangled scream. It came from behind him, up the road. He turned and ran into the blizzard, stumbling over half-bricks and mangled bodies.

He had gone only a short distance when he found them. Eal had never seen Heartless before but he recognised them from the newspapers' descriptions. Three of the creatures, black as shadow with huge, glowing yellow eyes, stood in the centre of the street. They looked like conspirators, or gossipy old women, huddled round with their heads bowed together. They turned as he approached, their alien, featureless heads cocked to one side as if considering him. It was then that Eal saw what they were standing on. He let out a sob. The Heartless were standing on a tartan blanket, slashed through in many places.

Eal took a step back. He could barely see the Heartless now, through the snow and the tears. They were advancing on him; six yellow orbs in the storm, growing larger and larger.

"Lenna…" Eal croaked, taking another step back. All he wanted at that moment, more than anything else, was to see her face; to hear her voice. But there was no-one: no voice, no hand to hold, nothing. He was alone.

Eal felt cold, cold that had nothing to do with the storm, cold that came from the _inside_. He took a step back. Now everything was fading, disappearing into shadow. Eal closed his eyes and knew no more.

* * *

The door swung open, grinding noisily across the stone floor. Torchlight filled the chamber beyond with flickering shadows. It was quite narrow, being no broader than a city highway, but very long: the far wall was hidden in distant shadows. It was fashioned from a plain yellow stone, clean-cut and neatly constructed. A shadowy hand from beyond the door cast a handful of sand into the chamber. There was the soft sound of collective breath being held. A moment's wait, and Eal stepped through the doorway.

He reached up and unwound the headscarf that he wore across his face. If someone had presented him to his old friends, it is unlikely they would have recognised him. He wore a suit of light, baggy clothes in dark colours. Not only his clothes but his manner, his air, was different. He swaggered now, two round _chakrams_ jingling at his belt as he walked.

When he had first awoken in the desert, Eal had simply wished to roll over and let the darkness reclaim him. This would almost certainly have happened, had the thieves not happened upon him. They were returning from a raid, disguised as a merchant caravan; their camels loaded down with loot. Eal later learned that many of the band had wanted to leave him, or sell him as a slave. However, Cassim, their leader, would have none of it. He had tended Eal back to health and, when he was recovered, offered him a place in his gang: as one of the legendary Fourty Thieves.

Eal had asked Cassim many times over the years why had he had saved him. Every time the answer was the same: Cassim would shrug and smile and say:

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Cassim had never heard of the Radiant Garden, or anything of Eal's world. At first Eal had searched for news of his home, and for a way to return. But as each inquiry hit a dead end, his desire to leave waned. He threw himself into the life of the Fourty Thieves. He learnt how to walk so he could not be heard, how to pick a lock, how to force a window, to climb without a rope, to see and be unseen. He had done things that, when he thought about them, he was not proud of. Stolen from those that could not afford it. Killed, sometimes just because the person was in the way, or because Cassim ordered it.

Eal didn't think too much about such things. Cassim was the self-styled 'King of Thieves': he demanded total loyalty from his men. Not that Eal feared Cassim. He trusted him completely. But if Eal questioned Cassim, if he demonstrated anything less than complete obedience, then he would be forced to leave. The very thought was enough to bring Eal out in a cold sweat. To be alone again: to stand on that cold street, to see all he knew and loved taken from him in a heartbeat: that was something Eal could never do.

Sometimes he thought about Lenna, and Rosa. Sometimes, in the deepest hours of the night, he wept for them. He tried not to. That was his old life. Now he was here. He had new loyalties, and a new role to play.

Eal turned. Behind him, the thieves were filing into the chamber. These were the very best of the Fourty, handpicked by Cassim. The rest were spread out through the temple complex, to cover their retreat. At the very rear, in the safest position, came Cassim himself. He wore a long blue cape with matching headscarf. He crossed the chamber to stand at Eal's side. Reaching up, he removed the scarf to reveal his handsome bearded face.

"Well, we made it," he said, clapping Eal on the shoulder. Eal nodded, eyes still scanning the chamber.

"You're sure this is it?" Eal asked.

"Positive," said Cassim, flourishing the map under Eal's nose.

"Here," he said, indicating the central chamber, "The Valley of the Roc."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eal muttered under his breath. A moment later, one of the torchbearers called over to Cassim:

"Sire! Over here!"

The torchbearer was standing on the lip of some great pit or trench carved into the floor of the chamber, some thirty feet from the doorway. The side walls of the chamber did not widen at this point, although the ceiling rose so high that it could no longer be seen. The floor simply vanished with a sheer drop. The far wall was still hidden.

"How deep is it?" Cassim wondered. Taking a torch from one of the bearers, Eal knelt down and lowered it as far as he could into the trench. He could see nothing. At a nod from Cassim, he dropped the torch into the trench. It did not have far to fall: a mere fifteen feet. It jingled as it landed. The floor of the trench was covered in gold coins. Not just gold either: jewels and precious stones the size of a man's fist, sceptres and statues of beautiful silver. It stretched off as far as Eal could see.

The thieves laughed and cheered. An excited babble of voices filled the chamber. Cassim raised a hand. There was instant silence.

"We don't have it, yet" he said sternly. He turned to speak to one of the torchbearers:

"Aziz, take a closer look."

Aziz nodded. In a few minutes he had a rope around his waist and six men holding the other end. Under the eyes of his fellow thieves, Aziz slowly descended into the trench. He walked backwards down the wall, a torch in one hand and the other on the rope. The gold coins jingled under his feet as he touched the bottom. Having found a solid footing, he called back up:

"Nothing down here, sire. Just treasure!"

The thieves gave another cheer.

"Wait!" Eal shouted. Cassim had heard it too: the creaking sound of metal under stress. It seemed to be coming from the ceiling.

"Aziz, get out of there!" Eal called, hand darting for the rope. He was too late. The chamber seemed to echo with a terrible screeching; under which could be heard a long, low rumbling sound. Something huge and dark descended from the ceiling, almost too fast to be seen. For a moment Eal could hear Aziz's screams. Then silence.

Eal and Cassim peered into the trench. Both Eal and Aziz's torches had gone out. Tentatively, Eal dropped a third torch. There was blood spattered over the coins, but no sign of Aziz or the thing that had attacked him. The thieves muttered to one another.

"A monster… Dark omen… Cursed place… Leave now…"

"No one is leaving!" Cassim said firmly, "This is a device of men to protect their gold. Nothing more."

Eal scratched the back of his head. Cassim and the others waited: it did not help to hurry Eal when he was thinking. After a few minutes' silence, Eal looked up.

"You," he said, addressing one of the thieves, "give me your bag."

The thief handed over his bag of digging tools without a word. Eal weighed it in one hand and then, with a flick of his wrist, tossed it into the trench. No one protested, although there were some anxious looks.

As before, there was a moment of silence. Then came the creaking of metal, the screeching and the rumble. Again, the great and terrible shape descended from the ceiling. This time, however, Eal was ready for it. His hands were a blur as he slipped a _chakram _from his belt and sent it spinning through the air. However, he did not aim _for _the strange shape but rather _above _it. There was a flash of sparks. The monstrosity crashed down into the trench. For a moment, the thieves held their breath but the shape did not move.

"OK. I think it's safe now," said Eal, reaching for the rope. It was only when a number of torchbearers had surrounded it that the thieves could see what it was that had taken Aziz. It was a huge iron bird, like an eagle but built to twice the height of a man. It was posed as if striking with its sword-like talons. Talons, Eal noticed, that were slick with blood: Aziz's blood. A short length chain ran from the bird's back to where Eal's _chakram _had severed it. Eal guessed that the rest of the chain was hanging somewhere in the shadows above them.

"Ingenious…" said Cassim under his breath as he circled the bird.

"Yes, the guy who built this temple was full of ideas," said Eal dryly.

"Hmm? No," Cassim shook his head, "I meant the way you disabled it. Very clever, Eal."

"Thank you, sire," said Eal with a small bow.

Cassim then set about ordering the thieves to move the bird aside. When that was done, there came the far more enjoyable task of filling their sacks with the loot. There was no way they would be able to carry every piece of treasure, so Cassim ordered them to take only the choicest items. This did not take too long, as each thief possessed an expert eye. The sacks were filled and then lifted out of the trench with the rope. The thief who had filled the sack would then climb the rope and carry his sack out of the chamber.

Eal was just about to climb up after his sack, the last one to be filled, when he happened to look up. Cassim was standing alone on the edge of the trench, a knife in his hand.

"Hey!" Eal called up, wondering what the joke was. Cassim did not speak. He had an odd look about him: sad, yet determined.

"I am sorry, Eal," he said. He crouched down, and before Eal could even call out, he cut the rope.

"Hey!" Eal said, forcing himself to sound casual, "Hey! That's not very funny, Cassim."

"I do not ask you to forgive me," Cassim said, sheathing his knife, "but I cannot let you live."

"What?!" Eal cried, truly bewildered now.

"You are a good man, Eal. Too good, truth be told. You have the men's affection. You may one day have their loyalty. That makes you a threat."

"What're you talking about?! I'd never…!"

"But one day, you might," said Cassim.

"Hey!" Eal called, "Hey! Guys! Come back! Help me!"

"I chose these men myself," said Cassim coolly "They will swear before God Himself that you slipped and broke your neck."

Cassim reached up and drew his scarf across his face.

"Goodbye, Eal. I… I _am _sorry."

Eal screamed for Cassim to turn, to come back. He scrambled for a toehold in the sheer walls of the trench. He scratched at the stone until his fingers were raw and bloody. Then he heard the scrape of stone on stone. The door swung closed, taking the last of the light with it.

Eal sank down onto a pile of coins. His chest rose and fell in great, heaving sobs. It was as if he stood on the cold street once again. He could see the torn blanket before him, hear the strangled screams; he could not tell if he saw them with his eyes or with his mind. It did not matter. He had been abandoned. He had lost all he had, to be cast back into shadow and pain.

No… not total shadow. Eal looked round. There were faint lights gathering around him. They came in pairs. Twin yellow orbs, peering at him out of the darkness. Eal scrambled to his feet, his last _chakram _drawn. How did the Heartless get here, he wondered? Had _he _drawn them there?

He laughed. The _chakram _fell from his fingers. What did it matter?

"Come on then!" Eal said, spreading his arms wide, "Take me!"

He fell back, surrendering to the Heartless.

* * *

Eal was very surprised when he awoke. He had expected the shadow and the cold to last forever. Eternal darkness had seemed preferable to the pain.

Why then did he not feel pain now? He remembered everything: Lenna, Rosa, the thieves, Cassim. The Heartless. So, why did he not feel sad about them? He thought about Lenna. He could _remember_ loving her. Yet he couldn't feel it now. He knew he should feel pain at remembering her. But he felt nothing.

He looked around. He was lying on grass. He raised his head. There were a few trees around him. There was something strange about the sky. Eal thought he could remember how, back in Radiant Garden, the winter sky would sometimes be filled with the dazzling lights of the aurora borealis. But here, the sky was _all _aurora borealis. Eal noted it as unusual, but for some reason he felt no wonder at it. To his right Eal could see a tall tower of yellow and green, decorated with symbols of stars and moons. The whole area was no larger than a football field.

Eal walked slowly towards the edge of the grass and looked over. There was nothing but sky as far as he could see. Sky above him, beneath him and around him. Again, he was alone.

He had just turned to investigate the tower when he saw a tall figure in a black leather coat walking towards him. The figure had its hood pulled down to conceal its face. It did not seem to notice Eal.

"Hey!" Eal called out, waving to attract the figure's attention, "Hey! Stop!"

The figure halted. It considered Eal silently.

"W-where am I?" Eal asked, hoping that if he _sounded_ worried, he would make himself _feel_ worried.

The figure did not reply. It turned and began to walk off, seemingly heading towards empty space.

"Wait! Take me with you!"

Eal ran to catch the figure. The figure spun round, caught Eal's arm and thrust him away. When it spoke, it was with a man's voice, deep and rich:

"Why should I take you?"

"I… I don't want to be alone," said Eal, forcing his face to assume a frown.

"Do not pretend you feel lonely," the hooded man said. He sounded almost amused:

"You are a Nobody. Nobodies feel nothing."

"A Nobody?"

"A being without a heart. The empty shell left behind when a Somebody's heart is claimed by the darkness."

"My… Somebody?"

"You do not… remember?"

The hooded man sounded curious now.

"You mean… who I was, before all this happened?" Eal asked. The hooded man considered this for a moment.

"Yes. That will suffice, for the moment."

He turned to go.

"Wait!" Eal called again, "How do you know all this?"

"I am head of an Organisation of Nobodies," the hooded man replied, "We study the heart, so that we may regain ours."

"Please… take me with you," Eal said.

"Why?" the hooded man asked, bluntly.

"I'll… I'll do anything," Eal said, "Anything at all. Just… just don't leave me here."

The hooded man was silent for another long moment.

"Very well," he said at length, "We could use you…"

But Eal did not care what was being said. He didn't pretend to understand what the hooded man was talking about, or what had happened to him. All he knew was that here was someone willing to take him in. He, who had lost everyone and everything: even his heart.

"You are not listening!" the hooded man said sharply. Eal looked up, a strained smile on his lips:

"Yeah, yeah, I'm Axel, Number 8 in this Organisation of yours; I got it memorized."


End file.
